Phantasm
by Trinka
Summary: AU Hermione is working on a potion that will make the drinker impervious to the Killing Curse. However, the research is not entirely hers. Who is the Phantasm aiding her? And what will he want in return?


**Chapter: the First  
Master**

Hermione wiped at her forehead as the steam from her cauldron caused her to perspire. She checked the timer and saw that she had only one more minute before she could take the potion off the boil. Another ten minutes and one final ingredient added after that and she would be able to test her newest attempt.

The buzzer went of and with a small movement of her wand the fire went out. She reset the timer for ten minutes and was just sitting down to catch up on a bit of reading while she waited when her lab door opened.

"Here it is," her overzealous assistant squealed at her. "You made the front cover! Now everyone will know just how brilliant Hermione Granger is," from the less-than-pleased look on Hermione's face she added "not that they didn't already," and was baffled when this did nothing to change her superior's facial expression.

"Sharee, this has nothing to do with being famous or being brilliant. This is about keeping us safe from other power-crazy people like Voldemort. If I can get this potion to work 100 of the time, the Avada Kadavra curse will be obsolete. That's what this is about. I would prefer if someone else got the credit for it." Hermione pulled a face then continued. "Besides, I don't know what everyone is so worked-up about. I can't get the potion to work perfectly yet anyway."

Grinning wickedly, Sharee ignored Hermione's last comment, responding only to what she wanted to. "You could tell them it was all my idea. I wouldn't mind taking the credit and becoming famous."

Hermione sighed. "I told you, that's not what this is about."

"It may not be what this is about," Sharee said, "but it's still what's happening." She waved the magazine in Hermione's face so that she would be sure to see her picture staring shyly back at her.

The two-minute warning that Hermione had rigged into the timer went off and she stood up to finish the potion. "I guess that's my cue to leave," Sharee giggled. She left the magazine face up on the end of the table Hermione was working on. As soon as Sharee left, Hermione swept it onto the floor with one hand.

She watched as the timer slowly ticked on and dropped in the last ingredient when the timer went off, stirring clockwise twice and anti-clockwise four times.

It was finished.

With trembling fingers, Hermione took a sampling phial of the dull green liquid and put a stopper in it, placing it along side her other recent trials. Next she filled a syringe and placed it on the adjacent table, picked up her wand and transfigured the teacup sitting there into a rat. It blinked listlessly at her and she felt something drop in the pit of her stomach but she reminded herself that, like the others before it, this was not a real rat. She wouldn't be killing a real rat. And, if the potion worked as it should, she wouldn't be killing anything.

She pierced the teacup-turned-rat with the syringe and injected it with the potion. Her heart beating sharply, and she felt her pulse in her temples, in her fingers, in her neck. She lifted her wand.

"Avada Kadavra," she whispered. There was a flash of green light and a sound of air whooshing from her wand. A few seconds later Hermione felt tears sting her eyes as she looked at the broken pieces of the teacup. Her seventh failed attempt.

The next day, Hermione was sitting at her desk working through a few formulas when her door opened and Sharee peeked her head in. "There's someone here to see you." Hermione opened her mouth to say that she was busy, but Sharee plowed right over her objection. "I really think you might like to talk to him." She grinned at Hermione, whose mouth was still partially open, stood at Sharee ushered in a man in very smart robes.

From his glossy black dragon-scale loafers to his slick-backed hair, Charles radiated his wealth. He had a way of dominating a room that could almost make one claustrophobic. However, as the benefactor of Hermione's research, she could hardly show her contempt of him. She smiled toothily at him as he swept into the room, arm outstretched as though he were expected a standing ovation. It didn't seem to faze him a bit that he did not receive it.

"I have wonderful news," he told her grinning with one side of his mouth. "Because of your recent success – or should I say, potential success – I've been able to find you a new patron."

Hermione gritted her teeth at the obvious jab at her researched as she continued to smile. She didn't ask him who the new patron was though. She had to try to be friendly. She did not have to indulge him in everything.

He tsked at her when he realized that she wasn't going to ask. "Since you don't seem very concerned with who it is, I'm going to leave it as a surprise. He will be attending your press-conference tomorrow afternoon, though, so you will be able to meet him then." He continued to smile his lopsided smile, waiting for Hermione to give some kind of indication that she had understood him.

Knowing that if she did not respond in some way he was bound to stand there for the next several minutes waiting, she sighed inwardly and spoke. "That will be lovely."

The other side of his mouth raised a bit to join the first in the smarmy smile. "Excellent." He strode out of the room, holding the edges of his cape as he walked. Hermione stuck her tongue out at his retreating back.

The door closed behind him and Hermione sank back into her chair.

_You should show more respect for you superiors_, a voice spoke from the shadows.

Hermione stood again, quickly, her hands folding together in supplication. "Master," she breathed.

_Your work is progressing steadily, I'm impressed_.

"Master, you mean your work. I could never have come up with all of this on my own."

The voice chuckled, a sound that made Hermione's heart race. _Perhaps not, but only the research is mine. The work is all yours._ Hermione opened her mouth to disagree. _Don't argue_, the voice commanded. Her mouth snapped closed.

_I've made another discovery,_ the voice continued. Hermione heard the sound of paper and headed to the mounted mirror on the far wall. Several sheaves of paper were tucked behind the edge of the mirror. _Utilize these findings in your next experiment_, the voice spoke, sounding like it was coming from behind the mirror.

She took the notes and bowed her head slightly but she new that he had already gone. Her Angel. The Phantasm.

* * *

I know that many of you hate me since I have not updated Fantasy yet, but I promise I'm working on it. It's been giving me a lot more trouble than I had expected. It may take me several more months to finish the next chapter, but don't worry, I have not given up on it. I hope you haven't given up on me. Anywha, for those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about and just wanted to read the newly posted story, thanks. Please review everyone.

And in case you hadn't caught on to it, this is kind of my own personal spin on the Phantom of the Opera. Sounds a little cheesy, I know, but I'll try to keep it interesting for you as I indulge myself during the long hours of loneliness caused by knowing no one in this city and my husband being at work. Hope you all enjoyed this. Jaa.


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